Her. (A Novella, In Progress – II)
Lenka went about her puppet routine on the telly.
She smiled inspite of herself and resumed looking for her phone. He had admitted to a crush on Lenka. ‘High cheekbones, nice legs and an incredible smile’, he had said. Thoroughly smitten, looking at her with those brown puppy dog eyes of his.
A text beeped into her old Nokia, and she found it. Was that him again? Nope, just another of those annoying promotional texts. She knew he had run up a record phone bill the previous month. And they had met precisely a month ago.
She hadn’t called him or left a message the first time around. He had simply arrived on her doorstep and they had driven off in his excuse for a car. He had been (and still was) incredibly naive and hesitant. Almost shy. He had opened the door for her, and asked her to direct him to her favorite spots. They had driven down to the river, and spent hours talking. As the sun set behind them, with cheese, crackers and wine for company. She still was amazed at how it had all fallen into place. It was as if they had been friends all along. They had opened up to each other with strange ease, and zero discomfort. The conversation was amicable, and the silences even more so. That was their first real talk, and it had been choreographed to perfection.
And then the movie. Fighting work, uni schedules and exams, they had emerged exhausted but victorious at the loud robot movie’s premiere. He had slain the parking demon and won through after a slight scratch – a parking ticket. She had conquered the serpentine queue, and had rushed into his arms with the movie tickets. Dressed in classy black, looking for her at the theatre entrance. She had simply flown into his outstretched arms, handbag, mobile phone, tickets and all. He gathered her up in a tight embrace. (Too long to be a hug, she had decided.) Funnily enough, they had both let go and turned aside at the same moment. They still hadn’t told each other how they felt, and were still ‘friends’.
‘Megan Fox? Yep’, she had told him. ‘The only good thing in the movie. And yes, I would turn gay for her.’ ‘Hugh Jackman’, he had replied to her question. And they had then been hushed for the umpteenth time. Giggling their way through the mindless action, they had then walked along the river. And ridden the giant ferris wheel locals referred to as the Brisbane Eye-sore. Nothing ugly about it that night, she thought. And despite the awkward silence at the top, they had simply held hands and watched the sun set over the city skyline. And then driven home, in even more awkward silence.
One month. Two sunsets. And yet, nothing official. He had broken all the usual ‘guy’ rules, and had swept her off her feet along the way. Maybe he wanted her to make the first move. Maybe he was shy. Maybe she was wrong.
No.
Maybe..
